


Plenary Indulgence

by KawaiiInbou



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Backrubs, Bath Houses, Bathing/Washing, F/F, Gentle Kissing, Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-30 19:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KawaiiInbou/pseuds/KawaiiInbou
Summary: The gift of a period of convalescence at Camp Bronze Lake turns out much more therapeutic than expected for 2 close miqo'te companions.





	1. The first day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The travelling companions make their way to the camp after a long campaign.

Krile’s word had it that it was the work of the Leveilleur brother, deeply concerned for his twin’s wellbeing, and furthermore concerned still for Y’shtola’s despite signs of her apparently smooth recovery; apparently Alphinaud had been positively itching to send N’atta with them, too, in the hope of finally relaxing the burden placed on her, cognisant as he was of his part in quite regularly worsening it. She accepted fairly eagerly, anyway, excited for the prospect as she had been ever since her brief stopover in the camp during the Titan campaign. Besides, she supposed, Zenos  _ had _ left her with a few fresh cuts and bruises.

For the esteemed ‘Warrior of Light’, merely teleporting to Camp Bronze Lake’s aetheryte would’ve been, in her own words, "piss-easy", yet she elected to travel conventionally with her peers, eager as ever to ensure their safety and rather certain that she’d quite enjoy the journey, too. There was a time when boat excursions had turned her legs to mush and her stomach to a squall; many a seaborne experience had hardened her since those tender days, not least the ‘voyage’ of The Whorleater. The seas were blissfully calm on this day, and so, from the deck, the travellers enjoyed the sights and the breeze of their short open water jaunt.

The routes from Limsa to their destination were inescapably meandering. Barely any sooner than they disembarked in the city did they need to commission a ferry thence to Aleport. Thereafter, a trader and her carriage, passing through the town from nearby Swiftperch en route to do business with the Qiqirn, proved a fortuitous opportunity, and they commissioned her transport for much healthier a sum than she could decline.

Choosing to dress and pack lightly for the journey was clearly a good choice by now, stuffed as they were between sacks part-full with oranges and casks of the not-quite-finest that Wineport had to offer. N’atta cut the stereotype of a fairly well-off Ul’dahn citizen, her loose shirt and trousers airy yet exposing little to the cruel summer rays, and her sandals clearly hardwearing and of excellent craft, their straps criss-crossing her bare lower shins decoratively; her typical paladin armaments remained in her luggage, but, just in case, she had taped her hands as her lessons in the Pugilist’s Guild had taught her to moons ago.

Alisaie had donned a delicate, pale blue blouse of Hingan silk (which she had had delivered to Tataru along with a hefty commission fee); for the sake of comfort she had chosen to match the top with plain black quartertights and flat, wooden-soled ankle sandals.

Y’shtola was clad in a sleeveless, knee-length, A-line summer dress. It appeared brand-new, radiant in its white colour as it was, and brilliant in the crimson trimming along its hem, the triangle pattern quaintly evoking the tradition of ‘white magic’ in which the erudite sorceress practiced. Higher than her travelling companion’s, her sandals were strapped up as far as her knee, meeting the brim of her frock, though they appeared to some extent to be more ornamental and less hardy than N’atta’s.

The ride offered the trio a taste of the sort of casual freedom their duties had denied them for a very long time, and it was delicious. Chatter flowed naturally in the reassuring manner denied to mere professional acquaintances; the furnace of shared hardship had forged in them a deep, enduring companionship.

Frankly, though, Alisaie was plenty observant, and keenly aware that she wasn’t /quite/ in the same situation as her companions; had they been travelling through the Black Shroud, she might’ve mistaken the near-tangible anticipation between the two Miqo’te as a worrying profusion of lightning-aspected aether. More than a few stray hands had lingered far too long on a shoulder or a thigh; furtive glances chanced, or caught yet mutually sustained. She felt she’d noticed too much for it to be her imagination… but she didn’t want to pry. She’d leave it to them to say as much or as little as they liked.

The carriage trip to Memeroon’s lakeside trading post was, in reality, much shorter than it felt to them at the time, engrossed as they were in months-delayed conversation. From there it took only a short boat trip across Bronze Lake itself, courtesy of another savvy Qiqirn, to finally see the end of the journey in sight, only a short, scenic walk through Nymian ruins, bathed in a sunset glow. “Scions?” came a strong, but not over-loud, voice from a ridge above the group, as they neared the staircase serving as the entrance to the camp proper. “Good to see ye made it in one piece! Follow me, we’re ready to get ye sorted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow start... sorry. At least it'll give an idea of the pace my writing ends up running at.  
> I've updated this a touch to keep the narrative voice more consistent and to improve readability.


	2. The first night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'shtola and N'atta get to know the camp and themselves just a bit better on their first evening.

She awaited them at the top of the staircase, a tall Sea Wolf woman wearing a half-open shirt in Maelstrom colours, with a plain battleaxe strapped across her back. “Herlthota’s me name, might hazard I know you three’s already, heh…” the young woman started, motioning in a beckon as she turned to stroll casually into the camp proper. She continued as she walked, needing little answer. “Made sure it was gonna be me on main duty today when you lot were due… oh, I’m the guard-captain, y’see. Ye’re the most exciting thing to happen ‘ere since that primal business… quiet neck o’ the woods again, this. Last captain got moved on somewhere more important.”

***

“’Ere y’are, then.” She pushed past the door, and held it wide open to permit the others. “Flame Lieutenant,” she addressed, offering a casual salute with her free hand; “your rank affords you the priv’lege of using this, erm, officers ‘all for your stay, an’, well, as ye might see, the place is empty for now, heh… so don’t worry, we dressed a couple more rooms up fer yer mates, too. Still a spare one left over ‘n all. Up to you lot who goes where. They’re all abouts the same anyway.” With the three women shuffled in, the Roegadyn spoke up again. "I’ll leave ye’s to it now… Oh! Right, the mess ‘all is over up that ramp just there," She gestured in a rough direction out through the door; "I think the kitchen might still be goin’ for an hour or so." Another broad gesticulation. “The wash ‘all’s off down the side path, ‘bouts half-way ‘tween ‘ere ‘n there.” With a chatter of ‘thankyous’ from the visitors, Herl stepped out of the building. "You’s are our honoured guests whilst ye ‘ere, awright? ‘Giz a shout if ye need anythin’."

Alisaie stretched high, yawning. "Well, I don’t know about you two," she said; "but I rather feel my supper is overdue", and scarcely any sooner than they nodded in agreement did they find themselves at the door of the mess.

***

The Miqo’te had each elected for a dish of seafood. N’atta, thrilled with the smell, immediately requested a serving of what she was told was called jambalaya, a rice-based stew of a Lominsan travelling sausage, local crayfish, and a robust melange of vegetables and spices. Extremely satisfied as she was by its flavours and by its ribsticking heartiness, its absence from the repertoires of most all other culinarians she met in future months left her deeply disappointed. Y’shtola dined on a dish of trout meunière, a fillet battered lightly and matched with a savoury butter sauce. Her order lit up the cook’s face, the young Midlander informing her that it was his favourite dish to cook, and that he had caught the fish himself at the crack of dawn. Both women opted to wash their dishes down with a cup of plum jerkum, brewed in the camp and cut with a fruit nectar for palatability. Alisaie, meanwhile, had settled for a light, sweet supper, a bowl of fresh-harvested rolanberries and grapes, which she had finger-picked through with surprising haste, and chased with a mug of fresh water.

"Are you quite certain you’ve eaten enough?" Y’shtola pried.

"Quite indeed!" insisted Alisaie. "I need time to write the day’s diary after I bathe, and besides, I never sleep well on a full stomach."

"Mmm. As long as you’re satisfied. We’ll meet you back at the dormitory anon." Unequivocally finished whilst her companions were but half-done, Alisaie excused herself, leaving the pair to themselves in their corner of the quiet floor, alone but for the distant presence of off-duty guards at another table, and for that of the cook, now busy pot-washing. Just a touch later than her peer, Y’shtola finished off the last sliver of her drink, daintily placing its earthenware vessel back down. It wasn’t an especially strong concoction to begin with, and taken with food as it was, both women appeared to have taken the alcohol entirely in their stride.

"Atta… may I ask a favour of you?" Her arms were resting on the table just in front of her, crossed over each other; leaning forwards ever-so-slightly, she delivered the request in an ever-so-slightly hushed tone, her eyes offering an ever-so-slightly pleading gaze, subtle yet still uncharacteristic of her usual public persona.

N’atta was fidgeting as she often did, idly spinning her empty cup in place on the table. Her eyes couldn’t help but meet her companion’s as she looked up. "Of course you can. You can ask me whatever you’d like. Doubtless I owe it you for dozens of bumps and scratches mended." Under different circumstances, Y’shtola would’ve _vehemently_ refuted that the Warrior of Light could owe her anything, but this was not the time.

"Have you- well… certainly you have noticed that my eyes have changed, yes?"

"Yes."

"Indeed. As it happens, the ordeal rendered me blind." Her companion was visibly bemused by the statement just as she bit down on the last forkful of her dinner. "I manage by use of a technique of aether perception, the details of which I will refrain from burdening you with at this juncture."

N’atta swallowed her food. "You never fail to impress me, Shtola." The words elicited a bashful smirk.

"The feeling is mutual, of course… but, to the matter at hand." She managed to recompose herself quickly enough. "The practice takes concentration, and… it is taxing, in the short-term and almost certainly in the long-term, as well. Matoya realised so immediately. There could be no keeping any such secret from her." She inhaled, calmly, but deeply. "I believe it would behoove me to accustom myself to living within my means, as it were… to managing where I can without my sight."

"Shtola. I’m not entirely sure what to say. I’m… really sorry." She pushed her dishes aside to lean forward too, mirroring her best friend, who, she knew, had lain herself emotionally every mote as vulnerable to N’atta as she had physically been when she was recovered from the lifestream. She’d never known her to be quite so forthcoming before. "Anything, honestly. Just tell me how I can help." For a pregnant moment they stared, transfixed, into each other; one’s eyes the green of the sea at a sunkissed La Noscean beach; the other’s colour estranged, but leaving in its place a truly unique beauty. Seconds felt like tense minutes, until, apparently unprompted, Y’shtola’s eyes quite visibly broke focus.

"I am in the dark, now. I do not know how apparent it was to you, if at all." she noted.

"It was… reasonably so. Favourable circumstances for me to notice, mind you… but I definitely know what to look for, now."

Y’shtola nodded. "That’s very good to know." She slowly, gently unfurled her arms, resting her fingertips against the surface of the table before her, reassuring her mental image of the space. "To be perfectly honest… if you hadn’t agreed to help, I’m not sure how long I may have made myself bear the status quo.” She reached, tentatively, a short way across the table, to grasp at N’atta’s hands, delicately pressing them together; "Sincerely, thank you. I am in your debt." It was rather a shame that the bright red flush across N’atta’s cheeks at that moment went unseen.

"I offer it freely. There’s no debt. Hells, I’m quite sure I couldn’t make myself hold _you_ in debt for anything." Catching herself implicitly admitting a touch more than she might’ve intended to, her blush redoubled, but it was matched now, too.

“I’ve been allowing myself to drop it when I’m alone with my thoughts. I must leave my comfort zone, though.” Her thumbs idly traced a line up and down the backs of N’atta’s hands, tender as a feather, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “It would do me little good to have you _lead_ me, so I ask only that you _supervise_. Knowing you are there to keep me on track would reassure me no end.”

“I understand.” Y’shtola’s gentle touch had set her heart to racing; it took a great deal of fortitude to keep hint of it from her voice. “I’ll accompany you back to the hall as such, if you’d like, or we can head to the bathing area. Neither are far.”

She nodded in answer, a subdued smile allowing itself to form. “I had hoped to ask as much. If we are both finished, shall we leave?” Pushing her seat back from the table softly, she stood up, unnecessarily flattening her dress down with her hands for her own peace of mind. “I have thought at some length on how we may go about this.”

“We, specifically?” N’atta’s question went pointedly unaddressed.

“What I would like for us to try would be for I to take the lead, with you close behind to keep me from trouble.” She offered her hand in the air between them. “If it suits you…”  
“I’ve no objections.” N’atta answered rather straightforwardly, belying her excitement. She placed her palm firmly in Y’shtola’s. Quite gently, she curled her calloused fingers around the side of the smaller hand. The digits that reciprocated the action felt smooth as the finest silks, compared to her own.

“If you may, I’d like for you to squeeze my hand, just so...”; she did as she had said, very delicately; “...in case you believe I’ve strayed, or am at risk. I trust your discretion.” Her body language communicated confidence, tempered only slightly by the faint red tint evident in the tan skin of her face. Certainly, the fairer skin of her companion showed a _much_ brighter blush, not that Y’shtola could tell. Said companion stood up now, too, filing in behind and just aside from her. “I’m reasonably confident in my mental picture of this building. Once we’re outside, I shall take the opportunity to look around, briefly. We can see then which direction the bathing facilities lie in, and I shall head that way under your supervision.” Clearly, N’atta thought, she had considered this plan quite carefully.

***

To say N’atta had been surprised by her confidence would be something of an understatement. In fact, she had only had to pause Y’shtola a total of three times on the way to the baths, to step around and over loose debris. As they arrived, its door opened inwards, and a slight Elezen stepped out.

“Ah, the pair of you aren’t too far behind me, then?” Alisaie was dressed back in her prior clothes, though her blouse was buttoned in only a few places, and her brassiere was folded neatly atop a similarly-tidy towel, the bundle carried in crossed arms at the height of her chest. She’d elected to tie her damp hair quickly into a loose ponytail, for the sake of brevity. “I do believe I was the only one using the bath, so you should have it to yourselves... and rather nice it is, too!” After a brief exchange of pleasantries, she made her way back towards their cabin.

“Do you think she may have noticed my eyes, Atta?” Y’shtola asked.

“Seems unlikely, I would say. Shouldn’t matter even if she did, anyway. The door’s just in front of you, by the by. Should just have to push it, I think.” As Y’shtola moved in, N’atta briefly hesitated. “Shtola, would you like me to hang around whilst you get a feel for the building? There’s something I want to get from my pack at the hall, won’t take me a fraction of a bell but I can keep an eye out whilst you get comfy if you’d like.” Y’shtola turned, and her eyes briefly dilated and refocused themselves, meeting N’atta’s.

“I think it would be a good idea for me to get the lay of the room with my eyes first, briefly, and then I can manage again when I have made myself comfortable.” She released her tender grip on N’atta’s hand. “Don’t be too long, though. I would rather prefer to have company.” A faint, wry smile teased across her lips. She turned back into the building, and N’atta made away, her brisk footsteps gradually fading.

The bathing building actually constituted little more than a pair of thin timber walls, built perpendicular to the inside of a cliff corner. In the absence of a roof, a rigging of leathers and oilcloths suspended at an angle above the structure passed for a ceiling, whilst a gap at the back corner permitted a cascade of hot water down from a spring at the top of the cliffs into the room. It pooled in a shallow natural basin, ran off down a man-made channel through a metal grate in the wall and eventually out of the camp, into the swampland surrounding. Along the length of the basin and the channel stood short stools and hand-pails, and just aside from the door was a small, fragile-looking cupboard; linen towels were stacked up tightly on a lower shelf, whilst ample space was left above to set aside one’s clothing.

Said setting aside of clothing was the next order of business for Y’shtola. It took her a solid minute to be done unbuckling the rather ostentatious leg strapwork of her sandals, and little more than twenty seconds afterwards to shed her light dress and smallclothes, tucking the whole lot neatly away into the provided pigeonhole. She settled herself atop a stool, shuffled forwards to the edge of the outbound stream, took a scoop of near-scalding water, and with that, allowed her eyes to be at rest again, consigning herself to familiar darkness. The first pailful, tipped abruptly over her head, took the breath from her lungs, the heat satisfyingly intense at first, and smoothing out to a comforting, mellower warmth as it ran through her hair, across her shoulders, then down her front and back, saturating the beat-up stool under her. She used her next fill more sparingly, with a more measured pour into her hair, her free hand roughly combing it through to her scalp. As she placed the implement down and set her second hand to helping the other, the door clicked closed behind her.

“It’s just me back, Shtola.” came N’atta’s voice, though it was no surprise. The next part was. “I have a present for you! Give me just a moment.”

“I am looking forward to it.” she replied, her purposeful nonchalance masking the excitement that had came over her quite suddenly.

Certainly, there was _some_ steam in the air, but the open ceiling kept the mist rather thin, which is to say that N’atta’s view from the changing area was barely obscured in the slightest, and so she left her eyes to their shameful business. It was an image she’d scarcely been able to shift from her mind since the day they recovered Y’shtola. She wasted no time undressing, though; all the quicker to get closer.  Her outerwear came off with ease, as did her bandeau bra, dyed black as ink. It took only a touch more effort to slide out of the matching, scanty knickers, the style she claimed to prefer for their comfort in a variety of garbs. She folded the whole affair, and begrudgingly turned away to stack it alongside Y’shtola’s belongings; she silently noted with a mischievous interest that her companion’s smallclothes appeared rather expensive in their make (at least compared to her own) and matched in their delicate pink colouring. With a small parcel of waxed paper tied with string, she walked to the bathing area, and Y’shtola. She pulled up a stool, seating herself just behind and slightly to the side. “Here.”, she said, lightly grasping Y’shtola’s hand, and placing the wrapped gift into her palm. “There’s a string to undo around it.”

The gift had the shape of a small box as she felt her way around it with fingers and thumb. She found the loose knot, and undid it with little trouble. The scent of roses met her nose as the package came open. “Is this… a soap? Where did you get this from?” she inquired, thumbtips running curiously across its exposed surface

“I know it’s been a while, Shtola, but surely you haven’t forgotten that I _am_ something of an accomplished alchemist, if I do say so myself.” came the answer with a beaming grin. “I think I found a very nice formulation. Try it, I’m itching to know what you think!”

Y’shtola took a deep breath. “It smells wonderful. I feel honoured that you went to the effort…” She began to lather it up between her hands, the smell soaking the air, before placing the firm bar on the stool between her legs, and starting to work the suds onto her upper arms. The bouquet filled her nose, and it felt like it filled her mind, too. “Atta, you’re a very special person to me… I wish I could ever repay you for… everything.”

N’atta, getting to work on bathing herself with her own pail of water now, smirked to herself. “I told you earlier, sweet. You’ll never owe me anything.”

***

Though N’atta felt she was almost done, her peer was clearly savouring the gift she’d received, lingering on each spot noticeably longer than necessary. “Need a hand, Shtola? Would you like me to get your back for you?” she asked.

Y’shtola’s heart skipped a beat, and she answered eagerly. “If you would, I would be very grateful.” With that, she turned her stool to present her her back to her friend.

N’atta had her hands on the bare shoulders as quick as you like. Between her fingers she firmly worked the soft musculature of Y’shtola’s slight frame, hoping she hadn’t gotten too rusty with the simple massage techniques she’d learned in her years amongst her home-tribe’s huntresses. If the gasp she elicited was any indication, she was doing fine, which she took as encouragement to continue. N’atta felt hypnotised by the sight of her friend’s smooth, tanned skin, and by the tender give of it beneath her touch. Slowly, she ran her fingers along the sides, stopping as she felt the start of Y’shtola’s backside. This, too, prompted a sharp intake of air.

Y’shtola clumsily picked the soap bar back up, and reached back to hand it over. “Don’t forget this, Atta,” she said “though, please… I may have to ask you for that treatment again.”  
“It would be my pleasure.” was N’atta’s reply, over the wet sounds of soap being worked between her hands. Just a moment later, her hands were back all over the skin, applying the suds evenly, scrubbing just gently at each spot. She _very_ purposefully lingered on the buttocks this time, kneading at them softly. She moved back upwards wordlessly, but there was no sign of protest.

Far from it, actually; Y’shtola had never been so turned on in her whole life. At that moment, she was living in the midst of her most feverish adolescent dreams, fantasies of how her life may have gone differently as a healer amongst her tribe’s huntresses. She cleared her throat. “Atta,” she began, with a sternness she knew was fooling neither of them; “are you quite enjoying yourself?”

N’atta didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, I was thinking of asking you the same thing.” Her shite-eating grin betrayed just how pleased she was with herself for that line. “Could you pass me the water, Shtola? I think it’s time to rinse you off.” When the request was obliged, she leaned forwards a touch, and started scooping water across the back, cleaning off the dirt and the soap residue. She knew full well as she did it, though, that she had a different intention, too. She brought her head just over Y’shtola’s right shoulder. “Actually, Shtola, I wanted to ask… how long do you think you’ll need my help for?”  
The question flustered her quite a bit. She hadn’t expected it at all. Even still, the hot breath against her neck flustered her more. “Well… I don’t suppose I’ll need it for too long… maybe a few-”

“Just, since dinner, when you asked… I was thinking, you can have me for as long as you like, y’know?” N’atta’s hands rested on Y’shtola’s side.  
“I-” she turned to face N’atta on instinct, and, realising this, allowed herself to see again, which N’atta appeared to notice. She hadn’t imagined the breath; her face was _right there_. Rarely had she felt so excited. Despite everything, she tried to put up a facade of composure. “Do be careful what you wish for.” she quipped, only just loud enough for the two of them to share. The effort was wasted, though, by virtue of her eyes and her breathing giving her away stone cold. Her bottom lip was quivering. She felt their faces drawing, inexorably, closer, and closer.

“No, sweet. I’ve wished plenty. I think it’s past time I acted.” Breathing heavy, eyes closing, they closed the tiny remaining distance together. Their lips met, _finally_ , and ever after all pretense was lost. It was a brief matter, this first time. As they came apart, N’atta, ever-so-gently, tugged at her partner’s unsteady bottom lip. “Needn’t be nervous anymore, alright?” It’d been _far_ too long since she’d had the distinct pleasure of indulging with a fellow ‘huntress’.

They sat together that way for a short while. N’atta wrapped her arms around Y’shtola’s midsection from behind, holding her close. Y’shtola could feel the warmth of her breasts pressing into her back, but more than that, she faintly felt her heartbeat, and it left her content as she had rarely ever felt.

“Atta, I think we had best dry off and head back. Alisaie will have questions, before long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm a huge loser, I did more research than I should've, and determined roughly what I reckon N'atta used to make her soap.  
> Having tried soap-making with commonly-available potash in the past, the results left her unsatisfied, so she worked to derive soda ash on her own, through a Hannish process she learned in the guild's library, of burning kelp to a white ash, mixing the result with quicklime, and passing water through the mixture repeatedly, to produce a lye solution as the base.  
> For the acid component, she experimented here-and-there with proportions of different fats. She settled, eventually, on using 3 parts olive oil to 7 parts coconut oil. The olive oil was simple enough to come by, whilst the coconut oil demanded some more work on her part, procuring copra of La Noscean coconuts grown on Gegeruju's estate, and using it to produce the oil herself. She settled on this ratio of oils to maximise the beneficial properties of each, whilst ameliorating the less desirable ones. Her soap produced a fine, silky lather, that persisted quite well. The bar itself was firm enough to keep its shape and last, but not too hard in the hand or on the skin.  
> The fragrance came from rose otto, that she derived from oldroses herself, at rather high cost, via steam distillation. For her own amusement, she liked to think of the soap as being named "Whither the Wild Rose Blooms", though she knew the otto made the process rather too expensive for large-scale production. For soap that she sold to merchants in the future, she preferred cheaper, easier fragrance oils, specifically of lavender and furymint. She kept her stock of rose otto for special batches, as gifts.
> 
> APRIL 2018 UPDATE:  
> It is reasonably likely I will feel the itch to pick this back up /one day/ but I really don't have any confidence giving a timeframe. I stalled pretty badly trying to decide where exactly to go with it both short-term and long-term. For now my brain's limited supplies of creative juice are trying to coagulate into a twine game of some description as a testing ground for maybe a more substantial VN-type thing in the future. Very big maybe though.


End file.
